


Look At Me With Your Eyes Wide Open

by freckledbutt (orphan_account)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Bill n Ted references, Eren has a prosthetic leg, Eren thinks Jean is his date AU, Inspired By Tumblr, Kpop references, M/M, Marco has tattoo's yay, Marco's Birthday, Mentions of Cancer, Multi, OT3 ftw, Polyamory, Singing in the car, The breakfast club lol, Trashy dates, Trost University, Ymir has a glittery dildo lmao, awz holdin' hands in the movies, cinema dates, erejeanmarco - Freeform, jean is a fucking hipster ew, marco and eren had bad pasts, this is about erejeanmarco, this is supposed to be happy though, title from Error by Vixx, wait no
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-13 12:56:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4522941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/freckledbutt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Jean Kirchtein has always had feelings for a freckled boy called Marco Bodt, but when he ends up on an unplanned date with Eren Jaeger, he learns that it’s possible to fall in love with two people."</p><p>Eren-makes-smashing-pancakes AU</p><p>Basically a fluffy-ass story about coming to terms with your imperfections and loving someone purely out of that raw I-love-you-because-you're-YOU kind of love. </p><p>(This might just be my current favourite thing...)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Let's Not Fall In Love

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter one is Jean's Chapter  
> Chapter two is Marco's Chapter  
> Chapter three is Eren's Chapter  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let’s not fall in love, we don’t know each other very well yet  
> Actually, I’m a little scared, I’m sorry  
> Let’s not make promises, you never know when tomorrow comes  
> But I really mean it when I say I like you
> 
> \- Big Bang, Let's not fall in love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “This kind of thing, well, it happens to so many people…why should it matter if it’s me?”

Some people meet the person they love out of fate. Perhaps they were destined to be together, drawn in by this unimaginable force called _love_. They realize that, all this time, their heart belonged to this person. They are the kind of people who believe in love at first sight. That, with just a pure glance at a person, and a strange gut feeling, they can confirm that yes: they are in love.

 

Well I, Jean Kirschtein, can confirm this as complete bullshit.

 

I’m cynical about that mushy romance crap, okay?

 

Now, moving on from the poo-related curse words describing my feelings towards fairy tale love stories, I’m gonna tell you mine.

 

I wouldn’t call it a love story as such, because at that moment in time I didn’t know I _loved_ the green eyed bastard called Eren, or the freckled ball of goo called Marco. Eventually, though, I came to love the both of them.

 

And this is my story.

 

Wait, fuck, _our_ story.

* * *

 

“Fuck, Marco, how much did I drink last night?” My voice sounded more like the croak of a frog than words coming from a human being.

 

Marco just shrugged and lit up one of his weird herbal cigarettes. He inhaled the strange smelling substance and flopped back down beside me, “Lost count. _I_ only had two, though.”

 

Marco, the ever so _rebellious_ oaf had only drunk two ciders at his own birthday party. I laughed a little, the throb of my Sunday hangover making it painful in doing so. Marco’s birthday was actually in four days. Most of our friends had part time jobs and university shit to attend, hence why Marco had decided to celebrate it early. However, I knew he was inviting me (and maybe one or two of his other friends) to some kind of movie night on his actual birthday. I was his best friend after all, I had those privileges. Honestly though, I’d have loved to have spent it just between the two of us.

 

It was pretty late in the morning to wake up, but hey, what’s the point in living a perfect life? I hopped out of bed, yelping a little at the awkward ache in my neck. Somehow, I’d fallen asleep without a pillow. Fucking worst way to wake up. My boxers had found themselves at the complete opposite side of the room.

 

Thank god I’d fallen asleep naked with Marco. It would have been extremely embarrassing to wake up naked in bed with anyone else. I was pretty close to him, as you might imagine with me being his best friend and all. After Marco’s accident, he got a little scared of being alone and fending for himself. Trauma was to blame, they said. Somehow, he thought me good company, and so I spent most of my mortal existence by his side.

 

Eventually my legs found it easier to walk and so I meandered down the stairs towards the kitchen for coffee and some kind of food source.

 

“Marco?” I called from where the fridge stood. About 30 seconds later he emerged from the bedroom in fucking batman shorts and bunny slippers. He jumped a little at the sight of me, a dorky blush forming in the apples of his freckled cheeks.

 

He sighed, “ _Jean_ , at least have the decency to put a shirt on.”

 

With a large, unattractive snort I replied, “I’d say you’re a hypocrite, but I have no problem whatsoever with the sight of you shirtless.” I bit my lip with my eyebrow raised and he smiled beautifully.

 

Marco was hot, no doubt about it. His tribal tattoo stretched perfectly around his muscular right arm. There was a large scatter of freckles all over his chest, painting galaxies and universes. Marco went to the gym often, and so he’d worked himself a sweet set of abs too. Finally, there was also a wonderful trail of light hair from his navel, all the way down to his boxers. I questioned how he’d react if I removed them. Not well, probably.

  
“Big perv,” With a spatula, he swatted me in the butt and we both laughed for a minute, “Anyway, what did you want?”

 

“I wanna make pancakes, d’you have any flour?”

 

He shrugged and walked over to a big pullout cupboard, rummaging around for a bit. Finally he shut it, though his hands were empty.

  
“Nope, shame tough. Pancakes sound good right now. I have this friend who’s really great at making pancakes, ‘d be good if he was here.”

 

“Was he here last night?” I asked, grabbing a cereal box instead.

 

“Nah, something came up. I’m inviting him on Wednesday, though, haven’t seen him in, like, two years. Will be just the three of us.” Marco handed me the milk and I began pouring it over my already cereal filled bowls.

 

“Can we have pancakes _then_?”

 

“It’s gonna be my birthday, love,” Two of his hands found a comfortable place on each of my hips, his droopy, wide-open eyes meeting mine, “’Course we can.”

 

There was a short moment of silence where we just looked at each other, taking in each other’s features, I traced my fingers gently over the big scars that covered his left shoulder and neck, crawling down his arm but stopping just below his deltoid. They covered some of his chest too, and half of his left collarbone. They weren’t fading, they would cover him forever, and he thought them as ugly and disgusting. His singed skin didn’t deter me from finding him the most beautiful man on the face of earth. And I’d do everything I could to tell him that.

 

I forced myself not to kiss him. In the end, he was my best friend and best friends didn’t just kiss over _pancakes_. I mean, maybe when drunk, but we weren’t. Sadly, we were sober.

 

 _Not for long_ , I told myself. Four days and it would be Marco’s birthday. Maybe then we could _both_ get wasted.

 

We found ourselves squished up on Marco’s tiny sofa, hunched over our bowls of cereal, watching _Friends_ mainly for the nostalgic feeling it gave. Marco had a dumb Christmas mug in his hand, filled with leaf water (aka, tea).

 

My feelings for him held themselves in an annoying romance limbo. Almost like 50% of me wanted to be his best friend, and the other 50% wanted nothing more than to kiss him, spoil him, take him on cheesy dates and hell, do a lot of _other_ stuff to him.

 

I couldn’t tell you how long they’d been this way because I’d lost count.

 

All I can tell you is that, back then, I did love him, but I treasured our friendship way too much to loose it. It was an agonizing situation.

* * *

 

I had to return to my strange smelling apartment that Sunday night, more like a bin in comparison to Marco’s massive house. The following day was incredibly boring. My final exam was on Tuesday the 14th, which sucked. Marco’s early birthday party on the 11th through to the 12th acted as a nice break before hand, though I did have to spend the entirety of Monday 13th going through the entire terms’ work and remembering as much of it as possible. Sometimes I wished I’d have picked art over English Lit. The revision would have been a hell of a lot easier.

 

After a whole fucking day of textbooks about classic literature and history ones about Victorian people, I called it a day.

 

**To: Marco**

**> > Hey, you busy??**

 

I returned to my apartment from the library, throwing all my textbooks in a satisfying heap on my dark oak wood desk. My stomach growled like demons were emerging from it, causing me to head towards my kitchen as if I was in a race.

 

My phone buzzed as I walked through the doors.

**From: Marco**

**> > Sorry love, I’m still piled in revision. Call you tomorrow, kay? ** **:)**

**To: Marco**

**> > ‘Course it’s _kay_ , you big goober. **

I smiled to myself and placed my phone back down on the kitchen counter.

 

Unsurprisingly, all my cupboards were desolate. With a sigh, I grabbed my wallet, glasses, phone and beanie, and headed out the front door. My hair repeatedly blew in my eyes in the wind. I needed a haircut. As I neared Gustoso, the little Italian restaurant nearby my apartment, I tucked my fringe into my hat. It was pretty empty inside the building.

 

Honestly, the food there was so delicious that I was never even embarrassed to go alone. Half the waiters were friends from my Uni so it didn’t really matter anyway.

 

“Yo Picasso,” Ymir called from the other side of the room as she was serving a couple of college students, “table for one _again_?”

 

A few people snickered from around the room, saying something about me being a loser and a loner. I shrugged my shoulders and walked over to Armin who, thankfully, was nice enough to take me to a table _without_ telling the whole room.

  
As I sat down on one of the oak wood tables, Armin cursed, “Shit.”

 

“Excuse me?” I laughed in surprise. Armin wasn’t the kind of guy to swear. He was like a…politer, much more innocent version of Marco.

 

“I set up one of my friends on a date today, but the other guy hasn’t shown up, and my friend has just walked in.” Armin bit his lip for a second, pressing his fingers to his temples in thought. He stood like that, even if just for a moment, “Hey, Jean?”

 

“…Yeah?”

 

“Will you…do me a favor?” Armin’s voice was hoarse, but I shrugged and nodded anyway, “Can you have a meal with my friend? I-I know you might not wanna go on a date right now, but Eren’s just returned to England and he’s still a little upset after his last relationship ended.

 

“And you don’t want him to be more upset when he find out he’s been ditched?”

 

Armin nodded, frowning and pouting at the same time. I liked Marco, sure, but I thought for a second that maybe it would be best for me to stop crushing on straight boys and move on. Perhaps if I attempted to date people, I’d be able to get over it.

 

Giving it a go wouldn’t hurt, right?

 

“Sure, why not.”

 

Armin grinned like the Cheshire cat, laughing a little before speaking again, “Thank you Jean. I owe you one, buddy.”

 

I shook my head, smiling, as if to say _no problem_. Armin grinned again, filling up my champagne glass. I knew he’d tell me that it was on the house. I sat back in my seat, taking a good sip of my drink as he walked away.

 

“H-hi?” A voice muttered from beside me. I turned to him.

 

Eren Jaeger was a little shorter than me, though much more muscular and toned. His hair was just long enough to be tied up, though he let it fall down, dark brown locks falling across his face and ears. His skin was a little more tanned than Marco’s, freckle-less too. Eren’s eyes were a bright green colour, somewhat with a hint of cyan. He had a scar just above his right eye like he had once been punched very hard. It gave him character somehow.

 

He was very beautiful. Like, Marco-level beautiful.

 

“Hello.” I replied to him with the best smile I could muster. Eren lifted his arm, awkwardly putting his hand behind his head, tapping his other hand against his thigh.

  
“Can I sit?”

 

I quirked an eyebrow, “’Course you can, Eren, is it?”

 

Okay, to tell you the truth, this was the first ‘date’ I’d ever been on, excluding the one disastrous bowling trip with a girl from High School that only ended in tears and a angry lecture from Historia (Let's not go into detail with that one). Honestly I never really felt any need to date because every moment I spent with Marco made my dating needs feel fulfilled.

 

It would be a big fat lie if I said I didn’t imagine all my trips and meals out with Marco as dates. So yeah, new experience in a way.

 

Eren smiled like an angel and sat himself opposite me, “Yep. Sorry, I don’t know your name...”

 

“Jean Kirschtein. I, uh, go to Trost U with Armin,” I pointed awkwardly to the blonde Scandinavian, engaged in serving a group of teenagers at some kind of birthday celebration.

 

Eren reached for one of the free breadsticks that were offered, tapping it against the corner of his lips in an innocent or maybe even flirtatious manner.

 

I wanted to laugh at him, but I felt sympathy for the poor guy. Broken hearted and attempting to move on, only to be ditched by his chance. What luck is that?

 

He was so beautiful too…whoever it was that ditched him made the wrong choice. He didn’t seem like a bad guy either. Though, I couldn’t be sure if he was just trying to make a good impression. Perhaps he was a bastard like me.

 

“I’ve heard your name before…though I’m not sure where from…” he bit his lip in the exact same way Marco did. They had a similar habit. I chuckled.

 

“We probably have a few mutual friends.” Presumably we did anyway. If he knew Armin, he would know Mikasa. Ymir and Historia too. In fact, there was a possibility he knew Marco. I lifted up the bottle of champagne, “Want some?”

 

Eren sighed with sarcastic amusement, “Honestly, I just want cheap beer, cigarettes and my TV.” I stared at him in surprise for a moment, “Ah, sorry…I didn’t mean to-”

 

“No. No, that’s fine. I’d like to be doing that too,” This guy was actually quite relatable. I got so much shit for being the kind to speak my mind in the wrong situations, but I still did it. A person like me kind of _hated_ everyone. And so drinking cheap beer, smoking and watching piles of films alone was something I found pleasure in doing. Escaping, I called it, “Hey, you wanna, like, go buy pizza and cheap beer then watch a film instead?”

 

Eren coughed a little then proceeded to sigh in relief, “Fucking hell, _yes_.”

 

We paid Armin for the champagne, despite his efforts to give it us for free. Before leaving, I made sure to shout over to Ymir, “Oi, Freckles, you left your sparkly dildo at your girlfriends house.” Ymir snapped her head towards me, scowling for a short moment before nodding in agreement as if she actually had. No one dared laugh at her.

 

Eren smiled and followed me out of the building. My stomach growled again, the bitch, and I dragged Jaeger along to the nearest takeaway. He was a slow walker, had a slight limp too, but he didn’t seem offended by my forcefulness.

 

We ordered three pizzas, I was hungry, okay? Eren bought the cheap beer as well as two of the pizzas as thanks for me buying the barely touched champagne. My apartment was right around the corner from the takeaway, so our stomachs didn’t have to wait much longer.

* * *

 

“Do _you_ go to Trost Uni?” I asked him. We were in my crappy little kitchen, Eren popping open some beer cans as I unboxed the delicious smelling pizza’s.

 

“Nah. After college I moved back to Turkey for two years before going To Uni. Will be starting my first year in September though.”

 

“Hmm,” Humming along to his voice, I signaled towards the living room and we settled there, Eren still going on about what he’d been doing the past couple of years as if it was a lie he was trying to convince me was real.

 

“…and I kept getting shit from my parents cause I spent most of my savings on going to festival’s back in England and to see the _Foo Fighters_.”

 

“You like _Foo Fighters_?”

 

He nodded, grinning, “’S the closest I’m gonna get to a _Nirvana_ concert.”

 

Choking on my pizza in positive shock, I smiled back at him, “My thoughts exactly. You have a good taste.”

 

It turned out to be really fun spending time with Eren Jaeger. He was loud, obnoxious and sarcastic at some points, though in a less annoying way to when I acted like that. We talked about our favourite Films, both agreeing Quentin Tarantino is amazing and Ridley Scott’s Alien is one of the best films ever made. He went on to telling me about how people told him he was alike to Axl Rose, and I agreed I was too. I mean, we weren’t as twatty as him but we were most definitely both rude and self-centered. No surprise there.

 

By the end of the night, all the beer cans were empty, and Eren found himself slumped half on the sofa and half on the floor. At 11pm he decided it would be good to head on home before the last train set off. He found it a little hard to tie his shoelaces at the front door, and even got slightly pissed when I laughed at him.  
  
“Eren?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Can I, uh, just say something?”

 

He nodded, “Go on.”

 

“I wasn’t actually supposed to go on a date with you today,” He looked a little confused, “the guy Armin set you up with ditched you. I just happened to be at Gustoso and so Armin asked me to go on the date with you instead…”

 

Eren stood there, bug-eyed for a short moment. I gulped in regret for saying what I had said. I wondered if it was a mistake to have told him the truth, to have told him that he was actually stood-up.

 

However, when a huge smiled formed on his face I realized that it was a good decision, and that he wasn’t offended, “Thanks Jean, It means a lot,” He bit his lip ever so slightly, “I had a really nice night.”

 

I returned his smile, “Me too.”

 

“I, um, think I’d like to see you again sometime.”

 

I nodded, gently, “Yeah, well, you know where to find me.”

 

Eren chuckled, his voice deep and clear, “Goodbye, Jean.”

  
“Bye, Eren.”

* * *

 

 The next day was warmer than the last, sun shining through the windows of my apartment like gentle arms wrapping around my lonely body. Gulping, I slid out of bed to make sure that everything needed for the test had been read through and revised. With an all clear, I stormed towards the kitchen for breakfast, a nutritious one to be precise.

 

The train wasn’t that busy for a Tuesday rush hour, other than a couple of business men and other Uni students. I arrived dead on 9. Luckily, the exam started at 11, so I had two hours to revise in the library.

 

Campus seemed desolate. It was scorching once the sun fully emerged through the non-existent clouds. I never did well in heat, hence why most holidays as a kid were to Iceland, Sweden and other countries of the Nordic selection.

 

Wiping a droplet of sweat from my forehead, I barged through the library door like a rhino. Thank god for air conditioning.

 

“Picasso,” Ymir waved from over one of the computer screens, “Come sit.” She patted the seat beside her. With a sigh, I did as I was told.

 

“Watcha studyin’ for, lass?” I didn’t look at her at first, but then turned my head with a lopsided smile.

 

Ymir let out an elongated sigh, stretching her arms in the air and then back round, placing them behind her head and slumping into her seat, “Engineering Physics, sucks like hell,” She brought her hand back to her text books and tapped a couple of times against the hardback cover, “Historia said you were studying Hardy or something.”

 

“Yeah, we’ve got an exam on _Tess of the D’urbervilles_ today. ‘S not bad though, it’s not the hardest thing to understand.”

 

Ymir let out an over exaggerated yawn and looked over at me with menacing eyes, “Who cares about that _shit_ , you gonna tell me how your date with Jaeger went?”

 

“You know Eren?” I raised an eyebrow.

 

“Went to his college before he moved away. He’s sexy and makes for a great party. I mean, I may be gay but…how does the quote go… _anyone can appreciate a pair of shoes when they see ‘em_. Go on, tell me, how’d it go?”

 

I shrugged a little (yes, playing it cool), “He’s nice,” A sigh escaped my lips, “It’s weird though, I really wanna see him again, we got along well, you know?”

 

“But don’t you like Marco?” She looked at me for a second followed by a slight gasp and a smile, “Does Picasso got a crush on Jaeger _and_ Freckles.”

 

I snorted, “Your grammar is so lazy,” Ymir scowled, her dark eyes appearing beastly in the strange yellow light of the old Library room. I pressured my teeth together at her and parted my lips again, “Um…is that, like, possible?”

 

Her neck cracked slightly as she shrugged in response, “’Course it is. Hearts do what they want, buddy,” She then threw me one of her rare, actual genuine smiles, “C’mon, my exams in an hour, we gotta go kick ass, Picasso!”

 

I nodded and we both went back to work. Chit-chat wasn’t my thing anyway.

* * *

 

I saw Marco at the other side of the exam hall, biting a couple of his nails off in nervousness. He had a strange way of remembering stuff and not having to write it down before writing the paper. I, on the other hand, had to jot down the quotes as accurately as possible before getting on with the intro to the paper.

 

All in all, it was easier than expected and the style of exam reminded me of a GCSE paper, and time flew by pretty fast. Marco and I finished in sync, handing our papers in as fast as our bodies possibly could. The sigh of relief he let out when stepping through the doors was ridiculous.

 

“Thank god that’s over,” He cried before releasing an equally big sigh, “I finally get a break from 19th century texts, Jesus.”

 

He wrapped his arm round my waist as we walked, casual and meaningless. I chuckled against his ear, “We’ve still got two years left yet, love.”

 

His head found itself comfortably against my shoulder, his freckled cheeks glowing from the corner of my eye, “Yeah, but we get like three months off now!”

 

“Don’t even try to pretend you’re not just glad it’s your birthday in two days.”

 

Marco laughed his musical laugh, “I’m not hiding anything, dear, I’m turning 20 and I get to spend the night with my best friend.”

 

With a click of my tongue, I smiled gently and wrapped my arm round his neck, resting it over his shoulder. One thing I loved most about Marco is how he was so casually and unknowingly intimate with me. Even if it meant nothing for him, it was awesome for me. He’d hold my hand, call me _love_ , wrap his gentle arms round my waist, stroke my hip soothingly when I struggled to sleep. Heck, I even received a little kiss on the cheek once in a while.

* * *

 

Later that day (sometime in the afternoon), after returning home from work, I found an awkward looking Eren Jaeger stood on my doorstep.

 

“Jean!?” He exclaimed.

 

I had to try and hold in a sudden outburst of laughter at the way he jumped at my appearance, “You seem surprised that I showed up to my own apartment.”

 

“Shurrup,” His pout turned into a blushy smile, “You’re in a Kaffihús outfit.”

 

“I work there.”

 

“Serving coffee and shit?”

 

“Nah, in the kitchen, I make the _shit_ to go with the coffee.” He acknowledged my statement with an incomprehensible facial expression, ‘probably felt guilty and was refusing to show it.

 

“Uniform suits you,” He stated, “Looks good.”

 

I choked a little before offering a _thanks_. I invited him inside while I changed into a pair of skinny jeans and a _Seven Nation Army_ shirt. As I made my way out of the bedroom, Eren had seated himself on the sofa, leaning backwards into the pillows. He smiled , pleased at my outfit.

 

It turned out he had cinema tickets, two exactly. Eren, being the magical guy he was, had booked them for a re-showing of The Breakfast Club, much to my joy. It’s not everyday someone guesses your favourite film – or that it plays in the cinema nearly 20 years after it’s release. The tickets were pricy too, mostly due to them being for the expensive comfy seats. I made sure to thank him.

 

We left unusually early for the film. It turned out Eren had a car, not usual for a twenty-year-old living in Trost. It was small Toyota, filled with books and CD’s, but it smelled nice. Like vanilla. We hopped in enthusiastically, Eren instantly reaching for the radio. The first song that played was Hotel California. I found it awesome that he liked the _Eagles_ too, as well as _Foo Fighters_ and _Nirvana_. Hotel California…well, it was a classic song that Marco and I shared mutual favoritism for.

 

I looked at him for a moment; he leaned down and grabbed his left leg, twisting it slightly to position it in a certain way. He seemed pleased when it was over with. I raised an eyebrow realizing he had a left foot gas pedal. He lifted his head and sat up again.

 

His green eyes caught mine and acknowledged my confusion, “Prosthetic leg,” he told me.

 

I nodded after understanding, “What kind?”

 

“What kind? Uh, well it’s cut under the knee if that’s what you’re asking.”

 

Nodding again, I asked, “How’d you loose it.”

 

Eren smiled and let out a small laugh, his head tilting upwards as if he was looking up at the sky, “It’s…not a very interesting story. Doesn’t really matter.”

 

Afterwards, I didn’t really ask anything else. Eren just started the engine. He asked if we could just stop at his apartment for a minute so he could pick up some beer and some popcorn (food from the cinema was way too expensive, Eren logically bought some cheaper stuff before hand). He tapped along to the music as we pulled up in the parking lot to his apartment block. It was quite high up, but nicer than mine.

 

He hummed a little tune on the way to the entrance, unrecognizable but still melodic. Limping ever so slightly, he headed round the corner.

 

“Shit.” Eren cursed, “Lift’s shut down…”

 

“Can’t you walk up the stairs?” I asked him confusedly.

 

His head shook, a troubled expression on his face, “Eight flights of stairs isn’t recommended, I’ve not had this leg for long. Still getting used to it,” He paused for a moment and gazed up the staircase, “I guess there’s always gotta be a first time for things,”

 

Eren, with struggle, made it up the first flight, but looked tired (pissed) afterwards.

 

“Hey Eren,” He turned around and looked at me, stressed out, “You afraid of heights?”

 

With a quirked eyebrow he replied, “What?”

 

Suddenly, I ran forward, my right arm wrapping tightly around his waist. He let out a loud squeal as, despite his muscle, I lifted him high up over my shoulder. I snorted at the noise and wriggled him into a comfortable position. He started laughing as my feet took off, running as fast as I could up the second flight of stairs. We were both in hysterics by the time we climbed two floors. Eren’s weight made my shoulder ache, but it was worth it. His laugh was wonderful; clear as Summer’s air. He patted my back as I ran with him, giggling and squirming over my shoulder. I tickled his inner hip lightly and he wriggled even more, ‘was almost at the point of dropping him.

 

Finally we reached his floor, flopping in the centre of his corridor panting and choking on laughter.

 

“Jesus Christ!” He exclaimed as his hips shook from laughter, “That was _most excellent_.”

 

“Did you just reference Bill and Ted?!” He nodded in response, huffing in remaining hysterics. I bit my lip, “ _Totally bodacious_.”

 

“ _Non non non heinous!_ ”

 

After another spurt of laughter, the both of us retrieved the refreshments from Eren’s kitchen table, and went back down the stairs, this time Eren hopping onto my back.

 

“You know, Eren, even if other people don’t want to listen to your story…I will listen and I think it will matter to _me_.”

 

He stayed silent for a moment. He slid his arms around my neck letting them droop gently over my chest. His head found itself on my shoulder, although he faced away from me. His hair had a light scent of vanilla.

 

“It really…doesn’t matter,” He sighed gently, his breath warm against my shoulder, “This kind of thing, well, it happens to so many people…why should it matter if it’s me?” I didn’t understand what he meant, but it sounded dumb.

 

Millions are born a week, millions die a week, but the big numbers don’t mean it’s normal to ignore your child’s birth or take no notice to a loved ones death. With that logic, whether Eren had passed an important exam, been shot or lost a leg, it would all still matter.

 

“If it lost you a leg, then ‘course it matters. Especially to people who care about you,” I gulped, “I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t care.”

 

He chuckled, though it didn’t sound real. Eren’s hand gripped lightly on my shirt like he was hesitant to talk. “Cancer.” He whispered, “I’m sure you’ve heard the story before,”

 

“Haven’t heard _yours_.”

 

With a deep breath he began, “I was diagnosed in late March two years ago, was in the bone marrow of both my legs. Took a year for ‘em to get rid of it. Came back again though, in my left leg,” He swallowed a whimper, “Had it amputated three months ago. Spent most of my time in my room afterwards.”

 

I reached the bottom of the staircase, but I didn’t slide him of my back, I kept him there and held him tighter. His arms were stiff, his breath was shaky. I reached my hand to pull it gently through his hair, but resisted.

 

“The only person I told was my boyfriend.”

 

“But Armin said-”

 

“That he left me? Yep. Wasn’t ready to take care of me while I was ill.” He turned his head on my shoulder to face me. I looked down at him and traced my finger along his cheek.

 

“Armin didn’t know?” I asked in a quiet yet furious tone.

 

“’S no way I’d ever tell my friends! Armin would be…worried sick. I told him I was going back home to Turkey for a couple of years. Didn’t even contact him, I feel like such a dick for doing it but,” Another sigh escaped his peachy lips,

“Thomas was there so I wasn’t alone.” _Thomas? Oh, his ex._

 

“When did he leave you?”

 

“A year ago?”

 

“So you spent a whole year of therapy _and_ having your leg amputated… _alone?!”_

He nodded.

 

“You’re such an idiot.” The tone of my voice was gentle enough so that he knew I wasn’t being rude. My harsh words were no surprise to anyone. He was an idiot, to put it lightly. Who doesn’t tell anyone? How do you even keep that hidden? Bottling his emotions for so long…I wondered if he cried…or if he forced himself to stay ‘composed’ like Marco had done after his trauma.

 

He smiled at me, not forced, but negatively sentimental, a mistiness covering his bright green eyes as he did so. I held his right leg around my waist with my right arm, my left arm reaching up to stroke his cheek again. We stood, just for a moment. I contained my anger about this Thomas guy, I contained my need to let out one empathetic tear for him.

 

Eren bit his lip again, delicately so, the peach-tinted skin softening ever so slightly. Though it seemed he was going to cry, he didn’t. Instead, his eyes just glistened under the sun that entered, unstoppable through the windows of the apartment complex. Under my fingertips, his cheeks felt like silk, breakable at a touch. I found myself leaning down unwillingly, closing my gold eyes in the process and pressing my lips against his. Not much movement happened between us, just a gentle hum from his throat and my hand placed at his jaw.

 

My eyelashes brushed ever so slightly against his, causing a sweet tickling sensation. His cheeks blushed an almost invisible pink colour. When we finally parted, his eyes opened again. He looked sad.

 

“Please d-don’t kiss me out of sympathy…”

 

“I didn’t kiss you out of sympathy.”

 

“Then why?”

 

“You’re so _beautiful_.”

* * *

 

“Oh god,” I cried, my head flying back and hitting the head-rest behind me.

 

Eren snorted, “’M guessing you hate this song?”

 

I gave him a _no shit_ look and he snorted a second time. His fingers tapped along to the beat of fucking _What’s Up?_ by _4 Non Blondes_ (painfully catchy). He bit his lip and smiled over at me.

 

“Come onnnn, sing with me Jean!”

 

“No way.”

 

“But I bought you cinema tickets!” He pouted.

 

With a tut I replied, “Hey! That’s just not fair,” He pouted again.

 

 _Twenty-five years and my life is still_  
Trying to get up that great big hill of hope  
For a destination

 

“Jeaaaan.” He lifted a hand and poked me repeatedly in the shoulder.

 

“Oi, both hands on the wheel.” We both laughed together. His smile was so wonderful, his pout was so cute…it was hard to resist doing as he told. More like impossible. Eren pouted a little longer as the song carried on through his old car radio. I gave up and parted my lips as the chorus arrived.

 

“ _And so I cry sometimes when I’m lying in bed just to-_ Hey sing you prick! _–what’s in my head and I, I am feeling a little peculiar…_ ”

 

He took a moment to laugh (cackle) and tell me how awful my singing was, before joining in himself.

 

“- _And I take a deep breath and I get real high and I, scream from the top of my lungs: ‘What's going on?’_ ”

We both choked on laughter, especially during the one and only _heyyayyyayyyayyy_ part. As his little red car pulled up in front of the cinema, I slammed the off button on the radio and pulled Eren out of the car at rapid speed.

 

“Hop on, cowboy!” I called to him over my shoulder.

 

As he tightened his grip around my waist, his arm spun in circles in the air, imitating a lasso, “ _Yee-haw_ , Imma ride this horse!”

 

“Is that supposed to be offensive or sexual?”

 

“It’s _ambiguous_.” I shivered under him and walked fast-paced towards the entrance.

* * *

 

Angrily, I sat down in the comfy chair beside Eren. _Angrily?_ you may ask, well, it’s because the entire cinema was literally filled with annoying 15-year-olds visiting to watch _The Breakfast Club_ thanks to fucking _Pitch Perfect_.

 

Everything became okay after a while when John Bender started talking, especially the bit where he says _You’re pretty sexy when you’re angry_. After all, there is no shame on swooning over a childhood crush when you’re _twenty_. _None whatsoever_. Eren laughed out loud at a few moments in the film, mostly at my constant tears of happiness, nostalgia and empathy for the characters. In fact, he pretty much _only_ laughed at me.

 

None of it really mattered though. As I watched, I thought back to the sleepovers Marco and I had as premature teenagers, hidden under duvets and crisp packets and pillows, huddling up and giggling at the word ‘dildo’. The film held a place in my heart because of that. Just like _The Breakfast Club_ and _Hotel California_ , a song or film or even book that both Marco and I shared love for was special.

 

Maybe it was being able to relate to each other, maybe it was smiling with each other, or maybe it was just the memory itself.

 

But as the film reached it’s halfway point, and Eren slipped his soft, fragile hand into my own, I knew that I had yet another reason to love the film like it was just one more building block to the wall around my heart.

 

And I also knew that I was unintentionally and unconditionally falling for Eren Jaeger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [tumblr](http://kaffihuss.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Chapter title from Let's not Fall in Love by Big Bang.


	2. Last Romeo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your lips embrace my sinful lips, making me drunk with your scent  
> No other reward is stronger than this, I only need you
> 
> -Infinite, Last Romeo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Because no matter what I do, you never smile for me like you did back then.”

I was twelve years old when I met Jean Kirschtein.

 

I have to admit, it wasn’t planned, and I was quite scared of him at the time. Even though we were originally in separate high schools, I still knew of him.

 

There were only three words people would describe Jean Kirschtein as:

  *       Hot
  *       Scary
  *       Mysterious



 

At the time, he was going through some kind of punk phase, you know, piercings and dyed hair and studded belts. Suited him, though, even if he looked awkward wearing combat boots with his school uniform.

 

He got in a bunch of fights back then, his poor delicate skin earned bruises and cuts almost every day. He didn’t care, though, because he always won the fights – the damages were like trophies for him.

 

I had three friends back in Year 7, one named Eren, the other named Armin and the final named Mikasa. They were pretty awesome if I say so myself, however I was only really close to Eren. Had a major crush on him since the moment we met.

 

Sadly, my parents made the rash decision to move to the other side of Trost, I think it was due to pay raises or new jobs considering the house we moved in to was massive.

 

Well anyway, I had to leave my new friends behind in the process as Yalkell School was way to far to get to everyday. Transferring to Jean’s school (Trost High) wasn’t easy; I can say that for sure. I struggled a little with sports, making friends, forcing myself not to stare at Jean Kirschtein, fitting in…and no one liked a guy who’s only talents were English lit. and Drama.

 

That’s around the time the bullying started. And before you ask, no, Jean Kirschtein was most definitely NOT the bully. It was that group of boys that smoke under the tables, laugh at people for no reason, impregnate girls and blame them. Yeah, _those_ guys.

 

Starting out verbally, they’d spend most of their time insulting me, dehumanizing me, embarrassing me. They weren’t exactly avoidable as the school was pretty small anyway. None of the teachers bothered to help. I wanted to go back to Yalkell with Eren, but I couldn’t. And I knew full well that if I told Eren, he’d storm in with either a knife or a machete.

 

Not that I was bothered. They are the kind of guys who fail in life.

 

But when they realized their words weren’t hurting me, they resorted to sticks and stones.

 

Well, sticks and stones aka pinning me against the bathroom wall and punching me in the ribs until I tasted blood. Back then, I didn’t understand _why_ I was a target of bullying. I wished it was someone else, or more so that it was _no one_. My parents would question why I returned home limping or black-eyed, but I ignored them. I regret doing so because my relationship with them turned unhealthy.

 

The violence carried on for months, or what felt like _years_.

 

One day, sometime at the start of January in Year Eight, just as I took another knee to the stomach, a calm patting of heavy boots against the tile floor could be heard. Funnily enough, every single boy that held me against the grimy wall froze still, pupils dilating and breaths shaking. Jean Kirschtein laughed wickedly for a minute.

 

I closed my eyes and heard what could only be described as a thousand bone-cracking punches around me. Upon opening my eyes, all the boys surrounding me ran, except for Jean. He remained still, licking his teeth just slightly. His lip was bleeding heavily.

 

Instinctively, I ran towards the tissue dispenser and pressed a clump of paper against his lip in panic. He hissed and pushed me back a little, muttering, “Don’t thank me.” Before exiting the toilets.

 

It was the first time I saw Jean Kirschtein up close.

 

As well as my crush on Eren Jaeger, who I luckily remained in contact with, I ended up growing an inescapable liking for Jean too.

 

The bullies never touched me again, knowing there was a risk that the one and only Kirschtein might get them in return. Jean appeared cold hearted and careless, emotionless and rude, but I could tell he had something else to him. It was like he _wanted_ people to be scared of him, but actually felt alone.

 

A couple of months later, as I took my dog for a walk by the lake, I noticed Jean sat on top of the hill, engaged in something. Daringly, I crept up behind him and took a look.

 

He was drawing!

 

Not that I knew what he was drawing yet, but as his neat sketch lines appeared beneath the lead of his pencil, and his face pulled itself into a beautiful, passionate expression, I realized he was really enjoying doing it. Eventually, the drawing became a girl, one with wide eyes and long straight hair.

 

Unsurprisingly he noticed me, leaping up in surprise and anger, his hand finding itself gripping tightly at my collar. His thin, gold eyes opened wide, kind of alike the expression Marty McFly pulls when he see’s his younger Father in the café.

 

“M-Marco!” He yelped, keeping his cool as best he could.

 

“I was just-” I choked a little between words, “Very good! You’re drawing, I mean, you draw! It’s really cool so I-”

 

“You’re not going to tell a single soul!” He raised his arm directly above my face as if he was going to punch me, his fist curled up tightly, but he began shaking a bit.

 

“I wasn’t going to!” I cried at him, calming myself down under his fist, “I’m not scared of you.”

 

After that, Jean and I got closer. Our full story is to be kept between the both of us, but I can tell you some things. Jean Kirschtein was sweeter than he wanted people to think. Eventually, the studded belts and red stripes in his hair disappeared. My parents grew to know him well, and came to like him as much as they liked Eren.

 

My heart was beating for two different boys but I ignored it. Jean Kirschtein made me confident in my talent of writing, and I made him proud of his art and loving of himself in a way his parents never did for him. I became a way for him to escape the ignorant household he had lived _too_ long in.

 

Jean was there for me, but still distant in a way. When my parents died during the accident, I was rushed to hospital with horrid burns. Hatred was all I felt. I wondered again: Why me? But waking up in that hospital the next day, my 14th birthday, was wonderful. Jean Kirschtein had run as fast as he could to be beside me.

 

Afterwards, we became joined at the hip. The best thing was that I never became distant with Eren as I got closer to Jean. My older sister looked after the both of us when my parents died. Jean and I both finished High school with high levels and happy faces, even after everything.

 

Even in College he stayed with me. And for the two years after College, when Eren left for Turkey, we practically started living together.

 

It was never enough for me. Even waking up the day before my 20th birthday knowing I’d see Jean at work, and see Eren again the next day, I still felt sad. The main reason was because on that day, the 15th of June, it had been exactly six years since my parent’s death. As you can imagine, my 14th birthday sucked considering the accident happened only a day prior. However, with a deep breath, I reminded myself that six whole years is enough time to move on, and not let a death creep up on you anymore.

 

The bed felt a little empty and cold, despite the summer’s sun. It would have been wonderful to feel Jean’s touch. Too long I had hinted my feelings at him. Too long I had touched him, kissed him and called him my _love_ without him knowing I meant it.

 

Checking the time, I sighed as (yet again) I had woken up unnecessarily early, 7am to be exact. Carefully, I slid on my jeans and my Kaffihús uniform. Sadly I had to work despite it being the day after Uni was over. But really it wasn’t so bad. Working in Kaffihús was actually really fun, surrounded by my friends and the smell of coffee and…Jean. Honestly, I was only fed up because it was so close til I’d see Eren again, finally, after two whole years and I just wanted any time before that to evaporate. I was exited to introduce Eren and Jean to each other; for some reason I never thought to do so back in High school or college, even though they were both my best friends. 

* * *

 

The entire of the bus journey to Kaffihús was again spent stood up thanks to those gross-smelling, mysteriously moist seats being the only ones available. Thank god the trip lasted 5 minutes.

 

Taking the side route into the building, I bumped into Historia who was humming along to a tune from inside as she took out the bin bags out.

 

“Sorry! Ah- oh, hey Marco!” She smiled, before pausing for a moment, “Uh, are you…doing okay… _today_?”

 

I nodded, “Yeah, I’m fine, thanks.”

 

Walking past her, I stepped through the café side-door with a big smile on my face. Thankfully, the first room the entrance lead to was the kitchen, where Jean stood with his phone, glaring at the screen before pressing down the off button.

 

He noticed me instantly, though he jumped a bit afterwards. His lips parted ever so slightly and a small shaky breath could be heard.

 

After standing still for a mere second, he held out open arms and I found myself straight in them. Somehow, my head rested gently against his chest even though he was shorter than me.

 

“You’re not taking the day off?” His voice spoke softly, but the words didn’t seem to roll of his tongue easily. Jean was forward (or maybe just knew me well enough), hence why he didn’t bother asking how I was. He knew as well as I did that asking would only remind me of what I was trying to forget.

 

Shaking my head, I replied, “Nah, I’ll visit the Church later, love.” He smiled down at me when I looked up at him, my eyes covering themselves in a most likely obvious mist, “We should get to work.”

 

“But I like hugging you.” He poked his tongue out a little, a mischievous grin forming on his face. I forced out a smile for him, wanting to tell him I loved hugging him too, but I didn’t say a word.

 

Luckily my shift lasted only two hours. Two hours of serving college students popping round for study sessions. Two hours of serving old people who all ordered English breakfast tea with scones. Two hours of serving middle age women’s book clubs, who all seemed to have 6 or more pregnant people participating.

 

I left almost silently afterwards, with just a final hug to Jean upon my leaving. He had a longer shift than me, you see.

 

**To: Ymir**

**> >You still free for the gym?**

**From: Ymir**

**> >Yep, meet me at the entrance but hurry. Ria’s at work still so I’m fucking bored. **

**To: Ymir**

**> >Ugh I’ll be quick.**

**To: Ymir**

**> > ** **:)**

**From: Ymir**

**> > Loser.**

Pixis Physical, the cheapest and most oddly named gym in Trost, was just around the corner from Kaffihús. Ymir was the literal only friend of mine that went there with me thanks to everyone else being lazy, uninterested or piled up in school work.

 

As she said, Ymir stood at the entrance with her blue sports bag swung loosely over her shoulder.

 

She greeted me with a smile that I knew was sympathetic. I ignored it and dragged her inside, scanning our cards at the glass doors. Honestly, I don’t know why I even bothered going with another person. Ymir always went in the pool then proceeded to do weight training and yoga. I, on the other hand, spend the entirety of my visit on either the cross trainer or the treadmill.

 

Though, after 2 hours, we both ended up in the little café near the reception for a drink and a bite to eat.

 

“You lookin’ forward to your birthday?” Ymir’s slight Scottish accent could still be heard through her mouthful of granola.

 

“Yeah, really looking forward to it. Especially seeing Eren again.”

 

“Saw him on Monday actually. He was on a date with,” She paused a second and her voice croaked, “with _someone_ …I think.”

 

“O-Oh.”

 

Ignoring my failure of a reply she proceeded to say, “You still like him?”

 

I nodded.

 

“Wow, I was starting to think you liked Jean.”

 

Gulping, I replied, “Well…”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

She snorted, “God, Marco, just you wait and see. You’re most _definitely_ not the _only_ person in our friendship group with _crushies_ on two people.”

 

I tilted my head sideways in interest, “Bertholdt, Annie and Reiner?”

 

Ymir burst out laughing, granola flying everywhere. I had to plunge forward and grab my smoothie before she knocked it over. I ended up laughing along with her contagiously.

 

“No fucking way. All three of them are _so_ gay. Bertl and Reiner are all about the dick, well each other’s dicks, and Annie is having a fling with Mikasa anyway.” I chuckled along with her. I didn’t ask any more about whom the other polyamorous person was that she had mentioned.

 

We parted as the clock hit 3pm, Ymir heading back to Kaffihús and me heading over to the florists.

 

* * *

 

“Good afternoon Mrs. Beech,” My voice sounded oddly lively as I stepped through the pink tinted door. The entire room smelled overwhelmingly of flowers.

  
“Hello Marco, how are you coping?” The florist replied, her wrinkled cheeks forming into a smile of empathy.

 

“I’m okay, thank you, I came to get, um-”

 

She smiled again, more of a grin this time, “I have your peonies ready, son, your mother will love them. Freshly grown and cut.”

 

“Thank you, ma’am.”

 

“Don’t be silly, boy, call me Linda. I have a small present stored behind the counter for you,” She skittered over to the small entrance that lead to the pay-desk, and pulled out a small box, “It’s not much at all, but I wanted to get you something.”

 

Throwing her a smile of gratitude and sorrow, I thanked her, paid, and headed for the church. Trost, being a lesser culturally diverse city, only had Christian churches. It’s a shame really because the idea of different religions living in one place, surrounded by each other and accepting and loving each other always seemed harmonic to me. Though, I was an atheist, so I didn’t know much about any religion. My parents had a Christian burial, hence why I was headed for the church graveyard. The sun felt blazing hot against my arms and face; no clouds above me and not even a blob of suncream on my skin.

 

My parents were luckily buried beside each other, though at the far side of the yard. It was a fair walk to get to them, but worth it by the end of it. Graveyards always made me feel strange. It wasn’t so much sadness, but more so the fact that you are so selfishly walking across a field of thousands of dead people while still breathing, still living.

 

I made sure to position the peonies in a way that I liked, and took a turn around the morgue to the left of my parents grave. I didn’t expect to see Jean stood before them.

 

“-him. And I’m _not_ going to leave. I guess that’s all then.” I caught him smile ever so slightly, and look up a little.

 

“Hmmm, chatting without me, are we?” Jean jumped at my arrival (second time in a day!) and turned towards me in a way that looked damaging to his neck. I didn’t give him a chance to say anything else.

 

“Hey Mum, Dad, you’re not gonna believe it, but I’m 20 tomorrow! I won’t be a teenager anymore,” I placed the flowers in the small pot that lay right between the gravestones, “Though I’m sure you’d tell me I’m still going to be your baby. Mrs. Beech got you some lovely peonies, Mum I know you’d love them. I actually have a few important things I wanted to talk to you about. I think it’s time I tell you-”

 

“-Marco, I’ll, uh, give you three some space.”

 

“No.” I interrupted Jean, “Stay.”

 

He took a deep breath, shuffling his pale hands into his pockets, and waited beside me.

 

“Now that I am older, and brace yourself because this is scary stuff,” I joked, “Things like my future are constantly on my mind. I think about who I’ll be spending my life with. You both know who my heart belongs to. And as poetic as that sounds, it’s the only way I can phrase my love for them.”

 

Jean stood completely frozen in time, mouth partially open. His breath was loud. With a croaked noise from his throat he announced, “I, uh, have to go.” And left. I watched him carefully has he took the back exit through to the lake area.

 

Sighing, I carried on talking to my parents, “I get to see Eren tomorrow. I’m so excited, but I’m scared too. It’s hard loving someone who you can’t have. It’s hard loving _two_ people you can’t have.” Jean had disappeared by this point, disappeared right before I was about to confess. The graveyard became dead silent, “I have to tell them, though, but I wanted to tell you first. I know you both adore Eren and Jean. I’m going to trust that you’re both happy for me.” Smiling, I bid them my goodbyes, aching to give them a hug and knowing it was just impossible. Every time I visited them, the scars all over the left side of my body ached. It seemed as though everything I wanted was 6-feet-under, and everything I didn’t want was burnt against the surface of my skin.

* * *

 

Jean was sat on the top of the hill in a huddled position. His head looked off into the distance, towards the lake, over the fields, all the way to the town of Ilfracombe. Even the sea could be seen from Trost’s hill. His hair was dead-still in the windless summer’s air.

 

Climbing that hill became an easy task after a while. It was where Jean and I went to think about everything, escape from everything, feel everything. Visions of him sat there, drawing away in his secret sketchbook, were beautiful and vivid.

 

He knew I was approaching him, I could feel it, but he didn’t look at me. His breaths were like whimpers.

 

I knelt down behind him, placing both of my hands on his shoulders, only being able to see the back of his head. I buried my face in his soft hair, breathing in his bittersweet coffee-scent. He shivered under my touch, as he always did. It felt like there was electricity between his skin and my fingertips, but I knew it was just my stupid feelings for him. After a minute, he finally turned around, still sat though. I shuffled forward onto his lap and folded my legs behind his back so that he couldn’t escape. I was riskily close to him. He looked really sad.

 

“When I first saw you here,” I began with my nose pressed against him and my hands on his cheeks, lips dangerously close, “You looked really happy. You looked so elated to be drawing, it was beautiful. I wanna see that face again.”

 

Jean’s golden eyes burned into mine as if _he_ was the world surrounding me, turning everything into that breathtaking colour. Even as his eyelids fluttered shut and his lips pressed against mine, everything still looked _gold_.

 

That was the first time I kissed Jean properly. We were sober, a good kind of sober. It was down to earth, we were hyper aware of the situation. My hand moved from his cheeks to the back of his head, my fingers dragging through his ashy-blonde hair. I tilted my head sideways slightly so that my mouth locked perfectly with his. He withered away beneath me. It was beautiful. It was terrifying. His lips tasted intoxicating, indulgently sweet. I wanted more, so desperately that I had to force myself away from him with a gasp to prevent myself from taking it too far.

 

I opened my eyes, but he wouldn’t let me see him. He buried his face in my shoulder, where he felt most comfortable. I dragged my hands away from his head, down to his upper back.

 

“I’m sorry, Jean.”

 

“Why?” Came a muffled reply.

 

“Because no matter what I do, you never smile for me like you did back then,” My words became sobs, my breaths became whimpers. Even Jean started shaking.

 

“ _Marco_ ,” He begged, though I didn’t know what for, “ _You_ make me happier than any thing in this _universe_.”

 

Holding him tighter, I pulled my hands up from his shoulder blades to the back of his head, “Let’s go home, Jean. It’d be really lonely if you didn’t come with me.”

 

Taking a complete turn in atmosphere, Ymir chose to leave a good old drunk voicemail for Jean, which decided to play at the complete wrong moment, “Oi Picasso! Next time _hiccup_ you decide to announce to Gustoso that I have a glittery _hiccup_ dildo, I’ll buy one, slap you with it, and _hiccup_ tell them allllll how much dick you get!”

 

Jeans thin, straight lips became wobbled, and I proceeded to snort unattractively and burst into laughter. Jean laughed too and fell back onto the grass. I fell with him, but rolled onto to floor beside his wriggling body, crushing his arm under my ribs.

 

Finally, we did set off home, still choking on some laughter. On the way we stopped off at Tesco to pick up plenty of pancake ingredients and an even more plentiful load of beer. (I even got some of Eren’s gross cheap beer, which Jean smiled at for some weird reason).

 

Jean, engaged in telling his ‘hilarious’ story about the time he got a drunk tattoo of some weird naked giant, was already popping open two cans of beer the same literal second that we’d stepped through the door. We stuffed all the shopping in a kitchen cupboard and settled, not in the living room, but in Marco’s ridiculous king-sized bed. Honestly though, it was way more comfortable than the sofa and it had a perfectly good TV too.

 

Jean sat texting someone the entire night, assumedly Ymir, though he acted pretty secretive about him. I was too tipsy to care at the time. All I can remember of the 15th is watching dumb K-POP video’s the entire night, listening to Jean sing terribly, and falling asleep in his gentle arms.

* * *

 

The next morning, I found myself awakening to the light shuffling of Jean under my head, attempting to push my head of his chest in order to get out of the bed. In excitement, I flew up, sitting straight against the headboard.

 

Jean turned towards me slowly, smiling like a mad-man. In an instant, I jumped on top of him, sun in my eyes and hair sticking up in every direction possible. Jean laughed and hugged me almost too harshly. I liked it though.

 

“Happy Birthday, Marco.” He shuffled his hand through my hair. I wanted to kiss him again, but neither of us had even mentioned the kiss prior. He was probably weirded out.

 

I bit my lip and flared my nostrils, “Uh oh…I’m old.”

 

Jean snorted again, throwing his head back in laughter. Wriggling out of his arms, I crawled over to my phone to check my messages.

 

“Whoa old man, put some undies on, I can see _everything_ right now.”

 

Giggling in response, I wiggled my butt shamelessly in his direction, “Nothing you haven’t seen before, love.”

 

“Not used to seeing you _rudey-dudey_ when I’m sober, jeez.” He joked.

 

Poking my tongue out and grabbing my phone, I looked back at him, “It’s my birthday, Jean, I can do _anything_ today.”

 

Jean sighed, though I knew he was smiling, and sat back under the covers. I followed him and squished up beside his arm. My phone buzzed a few times when I turned it on.

 

I scrolled through the home screen, reading all the messages from bottom to top.

 

The first one read:

 

**From: Armin**

**> >Happy Birthday Marco! I hope you like the present we left you! From Mikasa and Armin x ** **:)**

 

The second came from Ymir, but was written by Historia.

 

**From: Ymir**

**> >Hey Marco! Have an awesome Birthday (This is Historia, by the way, Ymir is totally passed out right now. Too much alcohol!). Enjoy your prezzie :D**

 

There were a few more too, all making me smile. Jean had his eyes shut again, waiting for me. I turned back to my phone and found myself on the very final message.

 

**From: _Unknown_**

**> >Hello, Armin gave me your number, should’ve gotten it sooner really. Happy Birthday Marco!! I just read over your email again – will be at yours in an hour. I’ll see you soon I guess.**

 

Taking a deep breath, I placed my phone back on my bedside table and squished myself comfortably back in Jean’s arms. I read back over the message again in my head.

 

One hour.

 

 _Eren_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [tumblr](http://kaffihuss.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You may need this dictionary cause I'm a slangy Brit lmao:  
> popping round - visiting  
> cross trainer - elliptical?  
> Tesco - Greatest English shop.  
> Pancake - Not the weird american fat things. the proper ones. (jk*)  
> Sofa - Couch/settee  
> Prezzie - Present  
> Rudey-Dudey - Naked
> 
> *not jk. im srs. your pancakes are wrong m8


	3. Beautiful Liar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a beautiful lie  
> My last lie  
> Even if it hurts to death  
> I am hiding myself  
> under a mask for you
> 
> \- Vixx LR, Beautiful Liar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You lied for the man you’re in love with and now you’ll tell the truth for him too.”

Upon waking on the Morning of Marco Bodt’s birthday, there was only one word I was thinking: _shit_.

 

 

I’d spent two years without any rays of sunshine before this, and finally I was being reunited with my light again. Too long I had hidden away from him. I could have seen him. I could have asked him to help, but I didn’t. I wouldn’t want to worry him, and I planned to keep it hidden deep within me that the cancer ever happened. I hated myself deeply, resented myself even, for lying to him.

 

 

Honestly though, the _shit_ was ambiguous. I thought it was excitement at first, which it was, but in a sudden moment it turned to guilt.

 

Jean was my chance of falling in love and starting again. The plan worked partially, I fell for Jean, even if it was only fresh, youthful feelings at that point. When I met Thomas, it felt exactly the same. It felt as though Marco could be forgotten as a person I was in love with, and remembered only as my best friend. Obviously, the Thomas situation failed miserably for me. In some way, it made me scared to start over.

 

 

What if Jean started doing what Thomas did?

 

 

What if Jean left me like Thomas did?

 

 

The only possible way to fall out of love with Marco was to leave him again.

 

 

Nothing, not any element in my body would do that a second time.

 

 

Seeing Marco again was like another mountain to climb, an obstacle I had a chance of overcoming being shoved right back in my face. And there was no way out either, because every single time I thought of Marco, or heard his name, I would feel guilty about lying too.

 

 

In all truth, even after two whole fucking years hiding myself from him, I still loved him like it was the only thing I ever knew how to do. From my passionate diary entries about him, to the songs I wrote about him when I refused to cry…everything I did was for him.

 

 

Yet, even then, I couldn’t stop thinking about Jean.

 

 

I rolled over to the other side of my bed to grab my shitty phone. Smiling, I opened my messenger.

 

 

**From Jean:**

**Mornin’ Jaeger ;)**

 

 

I snorted and typed out a reply.

 

 

**To Jean:**

**Eugh, quit the winks please.**

 

**To Jean:**

**Also** **Morning.**

 

 

**To Jean:**

**Lift is broken again, might need another piggy back down stairs haha**

 

Obviously the lift wasn’t actually broken, I was just a natural flirt. Shuffling into my best pair of Jeans, and laughing semi-annoyed at the way half my leg was missing. Well, ‘missing’ akashoved in an incinerator. Carefully, I attached my prosthetic leg and meandered to the kitchen.

 

 

**From Jean:**

**I’m so sorry, I’m really busy today…**

 

Giggling, I poured myself a coffee and forced my only piece of bread into my crappy toaster. Even with the guilt, I loved that Jean was able to make me smile so easily. It was like…stepping off a plane into the fresh air of a foreign country. Freedom while it lasts, but you have to go home eventually.

 

 

**To Jean:**

**You arse, I was joking. I’m busy today too. See you soon, yeah?**

 

**From Jean:**

**I’d love that.**

 

* * *

 

 

As usual, I had completely fucked up in terms of setting off at the right time. Driving around Trost two whole hours before I was supposed to go to Marco’s house was yet another one of my stupid choices. Eventually, I gave in and stopped at Kaffihús for a more…nutritious breakfast.

 

 

Fortunately, Ymir and Mikasa were working shift there. The café was practically empty apart from the one small group of teenagers in the corner. Petra and designed new advertising posters about some of the summer-only specials they offer. Most were just iced smoothies and coffees.

 

 

Some new tablecloths covered the tables, printed with cute sunshine and ice-cream illustrations. Each table had a small vase of orange, red and yellow flowers. The room smelled fresh. There was no doubting that, considering his weirdly amazing sense of fashion and decorating, Marco had helped with the embellishments.

 

 

“Jaeger!” The freckled arse also known as Ymir cried from behind the counter, ditching all jobs she was doing to shuffle over to me.

 

 

“Hey there, haven’t seen _you_ in a while.”

 

 

Laughing, she replied, “ _I_ saw you the other day actually, I was working my other job over in Gustoso and you were on a date with Picasso.”

 

 

“Picasso?” Mikasa interrupted, voice monotone yet soft, “You were on a date with _Jean?!_ ”

 

“So?” I hissed back at her.

 

 

Ymir laughed, “We thought you liked Marco!”

 

 

“Yeah, well, sometimes the heart doesn’t change paths, it just multiplies and two equal pieces will go in two opposite directions.”

 

 

Sighing, Mikasa parted her thin lips to speak again, “So you’re saying you like them both?”

 

 

“I’m in love with Marco, Jean is new, though I can predict that my feelings are growing for him as they did for Marco. In other words, yes. I have feelings for them both.”

 

 

Ymir guffawed, “God, what would your Mother think-”

 

 

“ _Ymir,_ shut up and get me breakfast.”

 

 

Mikasa snorted and took me to a table nearby the window, pouring me a glass of orange juice as I waited for some good old fresh croissants. I tapped my only foot against the floor, unnerved about this whole ordeal.

 

 

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I flicked through all the messages I’d sent to Armin in the last few days until I found the one I needed.

 

 

**From Armin:**

**Hey, you asked for Marco’s number, right? Here >> _attachment <<._**

****

 

One of Hanji’s pretty Icelandic CD’s started playing in the background, and I was amused by the strange looks pulled by the teenagers at the foreign language. I typed out a message for Marco before Ymir arrived with my breakfast.

 

 

**To Marco:**

**Hello, Armin gave me your number, should’ve gotten it sooner really. Happy Birthday Marco. I just read over your email again – will be at yours in an hour. I’ll see you soon I guess.**

Smiling, I switched off my phone and started eating my food. When the clock ticked quarter-to, I slammed some money at the table and stormed out of the room as if I was running from the police. I heard Ymir call me goodbye from inside the café, though I didn’t reply.

 

**From Marco:**

**Thank you, ready when you are.**

 

 

**To Marco:**

**I’m on my way.**

 

* * *

 

 

Marco’s house looked exactly as it had done two years before, big and somewhat cozy. The walls were painted a simple white, glowing from the bright sun that shone against it. Only one car was parked outside, after all, Marco’s sister didn’t live with him anymore.

 

 

I had arrived just two minutes before 12, my stomach wobbling like crazy as I turned the engine of the car off. I took a good minute to check myself in the mirror. My hair had grown longer, sweeping over my forehead in dark locks. There was an ugly scar above my right eye from being punched. Other than that, nothing had changed; I was still the same man Marco knew.

 

 

Minus a leg.

 

 

My hand hesitated to knock at the door, but I did it. Gentle knocks, but loud enough to be heard. There was silence at first, loud silence, uneasy and nerve-wracking. Eventually I heard footsteps running towards the door.

 

 

When it opened, I could feel the tears build up in my eyes and blur all vision of everything before me. Marco leapt into my arms, hugging me too tightly but I didn’t care. His smell, his touch, his voice, I wanted to _feel_ them all.

 

 

“Happy Bir-”

 

 

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up!” Marco cried into my ear, “I’ve missed you so much, not even been able to contact you for two goddamn years and all you say is Happy Birthday!? You’re such an _idiot_ , I missed you so much!”

 

 

“I missed you too, Marco. And I’m so sorry.”

 

 

“Just come inside.” I followed him through the all too familiar doorway, shutting the door behind me. Inside, the sound of Hozier’s _Like Real People Do_ could be heard from the kitchen. Marco had his arm wrapped tightly around my shoulders.

 

 

“Your hair has grown, it’s nice.” He smiled down at me, cheeks glowing as usual.

 

 

He had grown taller since I’d last seen him, just by a few inches. I only reached his shoulders in height. His hair was still in the same dumb undercut, still dark like a night sky. His freckles really showed in summer, more of them coming out and scattering like stars across his face.

 

 

The scars crawling up his neck hadn’t faded at all, but it didn’t matter. He was still as breathtaking as always.

 

 

“Thank you. You have grown, you’re taller, it’s scary.” He chuckled in response, “Wait, who am I kidding? You could never be scary. How have…you been?” I asked.

 

 

Smiling softly, he replied, “I’ve been fine. School takes up so much time…and work too, but I’m coping just well. How have you been?”

 

 

I took a deep breath.

 

 

I had to make sure not to slip up and reveal anything.

 

 

Thomas laughed from the depths of my imagination, so scary that it sounded real. His menacing light brown eyes haunted me, made lightening shoot down my spine. I could see him walking out of my apartment so vividly it was as if I was living the moment again.

 

 

“Pretty…lonely,” I explained, “Though, I did it to myself.”

 

 

 _You reap what you sow, Eren_.

_Don’t complain to me after this._

 

He laughed sarcastically, and I could tell there was some kind of sadness or pain in his deep brown eyes, “No kidding. You distanced yourself so fast, I started to think you kinda hated me.”

 

 

_This is your fault, remember that._

_You started it, and I won’t take blame._

 

 

“No! I would never and you know that…I’m sorry.” I sounded hesitant to speak. Really, the words were just sticking at the back of my throat. My face felt hot and my knees felt shaking. _His_ words kept playing in my head and it felt like there was no escape.

 

 

_I’m leaving now, and you have no one anymore._

_And that’s your problem._

 

 

“Don’t apologize. Past is past, I’m too happy to care that you left when you’re stood right in front of me.”

 

 

We both laughed forcefully and headed on towards the living room door.

 

 

“I told you I had another friend over, right?” I nodded, “Well I’ll just go introduce you.”

 

 

We headed on through the living room door, Marco gripping my shoulder as if there was still a possibility I’d run away. After everything, that was the last thing I wanted to do. No one was sat in the living room, so Marco pouted a little.

 

 

“Hey, are you going to come and introduce yourself, love?” Marco called, a little annoyed. And when a man with a dark undercut and ash blonde hair walked out of the kitchen, Marco smiled again, “There we go. Eren, this is my other best friend-”

 

 

“Jean?!” I interrupted.

 

 

Jean lifted his head up from his phone in surprise and practically spat out most of his coffee, “Eren?!”

 

 

There was a strange pause of silence in which Jean just stared at me with confused eyes, but after what felt like a minute, he began laughing.

 

 

“What the hell are you laughing at me for?” I smiled at him. Marco’s hand loosened and dropped from my shoulder, but he remained silent and watched.

 

 

“I don’t know…you just look so different in a jumper and not some band shirt…and to think _you’d_ be the guy Marco wanted to introduce to me, it’s all just funny.”

 

 

Pouting, I replied, “T-The jumper looks funny?”

 

 

Jean bit his lip ever so slightly and then smiled, “It looks good.”

 

 

I felt a big blush creeping on my cheeks, hopefully not that noticeable with my darker skin. Jean shoved his phone in his butt pocket and wandered over to the sofa. Marco and I followed behind. I sat right beside Jean, and Marco sat on the second sofa opposite, placing himself down and then leaning forward and raising his eyebrow in a serious stare.

 

 

“So,” He began, “’You two gonna tell me how you met?”

 

 

“We met at Gustoso and then went home to get pizza, but that was like three days ago so I can assure you we haven’t been conspiring against you for the past eight years.” I snorted at Jean’s reply and he pulled the most proud face I’d ever seen. Marco laughed a little too.

 

 

“Come to think of it,” I started, “Why’d you never introduce us to each other?”

 

 

“You, along with all of our friendship group, went to Yalkell High, I transferred to Trost High with Jean. Then you went to Turkey for the two years of College that everyone finally met Jean.” He paused and I felt guilt twinge in the pit of my stomach, “I could have introduced you to each other…but-”

 

 

Jean interrupted Marco, “Eren would have literally hated my guts back in highschool.”

 

 

Marco burst into laughter, “Precisely!”

 

 

Jean then grinned and looked towards Marco, then back down at me, “Hey, Eren, are you the guy Marco says is amazing at pancakes?”

 

 

I smiled back at him.

 

 

To think that all this time, since I was 12 years old, Jean Kirschtein had been at my finger tips. I was sat on a warm sofa, between the two people I had feelings for, and I had never known they even knew each other’s existences. I smiled because Marco had clearly talked to Jean about me, just namelessly, perhaps about the times I used to cook for Marco.

 

 

He always loved my food, but mostly my pancakes. At sleepovers, when Marco’s parents were busy with work, and even afterwards when Marco’s parents had died, I’d always visit him and make him a good dinner. The night I had spent with Jean, when we ate pizza and drank beer, I had learned that Jean was a good cook too, or excellent as he had said. Apparently it was due to his foreign blood.

 

 

And then there they were both grinning with impatience, waiting for the answer of whether I would make my brilliant pancakes for them or not.

 

 

“I would be delighted.”

 

 

Marco squealed a little in excitement, and Jean threw his head back with a gasp, “Thank _God_ , I’ve _literally_ been craving pancakes for _way_ too long!”

 

 

Snorting, I responded with, “Jesus, you sound like a teenage girl on her period.”

 

 

Marco laughed too, “Nah, more like a pregnant woman…or maybe Sasha pregnant _and_ on her period.”

 

 

I decided not to tell him that girls can’t really start their period when pregnant. Instead I just laughed and we all moved to the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

 

“Close your eyes,” I ordered them, “I’m adding my secret ingredient.”

 

 

They followed my order; Marco turning Jean around as Jean assumedly was the type to peek. I fiddled around with the cupboard door and a few boxes of whatnot as if I _actually_ had a secret ingredient that went in my pancakes (which I honestly didn’t) and then told them to reopen their eyes.

 

 

“Okay, so before I start cooking these fuckers, what do we have for toppings?” Jean giggled and Marco looked unimpressed at my language.

 

 

With a sigh, Marco asked, ““Nutella, Sugar, Lemons, Jam, Syrup, Honey…’s that okay?”

 

 

I nodded, “I guess we can get cooking then?”

 

 

“YES PLEASE.” Jean replied.

 

* * *

 

 

Making pancakes was one of the most fun things I had done in years, literally. Jean seemed so much more comfortable and able to be himself when Marco was beside him. Marco looked at home with the both of us beside him. To hear both their laughter, real and genuine, from right beside me felt like drinking ice cold water after a week in the desert. I laughed along with them. I was _happy_.

 

 

Marco had made me smile whenever I felt down. He was the drug I relied on to get a shred of happiness. I left him for two years thinking that Thomas would make me happy – he didn’t. I couldn’t rely on Marco then, I was completely alone. Bitter cold surrounded me wherever I went. I could have wondered the hottest places in the universe and nothing would have warmed me up like Marco’s smile and his tender touch.

 

 

By the look on Jeans face as Marco laughed at his touch, Jean needed Marco too. Even if it wasn’t romantically, Jean definitely felt strongly for Marco. His smile lit up like a supernova.

 

 

There came the jealous pit in my stomach. What if Jean and Marco had become closer then Marco and I…all because I closeted myself from the world? What if Jean could never smile for me in the way he smiled for Marco?

 

 

As a couple of hours flew past, I realized by the way they addressed each other with ‘love’, the way they looked at each other, the way they held each other, that there was something unbreakable about them that I just couldn’t figure out.

 

 

The more I tried, the more I realized that maybe this thing, this feeling, was something neither of them had come to terms with. Either way, we were all burying something under our skin.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey,” Marco began, “Do either of you want to go in the pool?”

 

 

In an instant, Jean replied with an enthusiastic, “YES!!”

 

 

I paused and looked down at my legs. Sure, it was completely possible to swim without half my left leg, but I had never tried it before. The biggest problem in the situation was how I’d explain to Marco _why_ half my leg was missing. I had lied to him for two whole years. Pushed him away from me for what I thought was his convenience.

 

 

Jean then looked at me and gasped ever so slightly in realization.

 

 

“Come on then, it’s so warm out it’ll be lovely!” Marco exclaimed, smiling like a dork and making me feel guilty.

 

 

Jean then responded, “I t-thought Eren couldn’t swim…” I tried so hard not to facepalm.

 

 

“What??! Eren’s an amazing swimmer, we used to go in the pool loads in Highschool.”

 

 

In the end, I just panicked and said, “O-Okay, I’ll come in.”

 

 

Marco smiled and stated that we’d have to go in our underpants as the only swim trunks he owned were his own. He made his way upstairs to go and get changed, leaving Jean and I on the sofa. I sighed and covered my face in my hands out of nerves.

 

 

“Hey, Eren, I’m not gonna let you drown if that’s what you’re afraid of-”

 

 

“It’s not at all! How am I gonna explain this to Marco?!” My voice was raised but not loud enough that Marco would have heard.

 

 

Jean sighed, “Look, if you know Marco, you’ll know that if- when you tell him, he’ll be asking you if you’re okay more than being sad that you lied. That’s who Marco is. He’ll understand. For now, just keep your leg and a half underwater and he won’t notice.” He smiled and moved a little closer to me.

 

 

“I guess, but…I’m kind of disgusting.”

 

 

Jean lifted himself off the sofa and kneeled on one leg on the floor in front of me, looking up like he was some kind of cheesy knight in a movie. He pulled a pained facial expression as if I’d said something hurtful to him or to someone special to him.

 

 

I waited for him to speak, but no words came out of his mouth. His fingers found my collar and I flinched in confusion. Gently, he pulled his fingers down my chest, slowly, until they reached the hem of my jumper. Jean looked at me and I nodded, trusting him. He grabbed the hem, and pulled my jumper upwards, revealing my stomach and the trail of hair going from my navel to…elsewhere. A small breath escaped his lips.

 

 

I lifted my arms in the air so that he could pull the jumper over my head. After doing so, he trailed his fingers down my chest and back over my stomach bringing out a breathy moan. One of his hands found the pool of my back, and the other popped the button on my jeans with ease. Both his hands brought down my trousers, his eyes exploring everything in front of him as if he was a spaceman and I was the universe.

 

 

Once my trousers and prosthetic leg were removed, he held my left leg carefully and placed a small kiss at the top of my thigh. He carried on the kisses all the way down my leg until he reached my knee where my leg ended.

 

 

Looking up at me with a serious face, he stated, “There is _nothing_ disgusting about you.”

 

 

The moment, inevitably, was ruined by Marco singing _I’m Still Standin’_ from the room above us. Jean snorted loudly, and face palmed.

 

 

“Come on, Cowboy, It’s time for another _ambiguous_ ride!”

 

 

I laughed along with him, “That makes no sense and you’re milking my joke…but okay.”

 

 

Jean twirled himself around and bent back down, leaning forward a little for me to hop on his back. He carried me out through Marco’s dining room and into the garden. I managed to bury my nose in his hair and breathe in the wonderful scent of passion fruit before he sat me down on the side of the pool.

 

 

“I’m just gonna go change, but I’ll be back, you can sit here or go in, it’s up to you.” He smiled and hopped over the patio to go back inside. I twirled my foot around in the water a bit, feeling the sweet release of coldness for even just a moment.

 

 

The water looked incandescent in the sunlight, gleaming back at me with a bright blue. Most people, if you asked them what colour water was, would answer with blue. The funny thing is, it’s completely transparent. It felt like it was haunting me. Just like water, I was living a lie that was so obviously untrue, but something…somehow stopped the truth from showing.

 

 

Looking down at myself, at my body made me feel ashamed. Disgusted. Even if Jean told me a million times that I was beautiful, I could never believe it myself. Liars are not beautiful. Liars are ugly.

 

 

And no matter how many times the sun went up and down, no matter how many orbits the moon made, no matter how many asteroids flew threw the atmosphere, and no matter how many light years passed…I would still be a liar. What was once said cannot be changed; it can only be pushed aside and forgotten. My voice, my own flesh and blood, my memories…they were all there to remind me of what I had done, and what I had created.

 

 

All of a sudden, my thoughts and mental self-hatred rants were disrupted by the instantaneous footsteps that became louder the nearer they ran toward me.

 

 

“CANONBALL!” _Shit_ , I thought as Marco damn Bodt leapt 10 feet into the air next to me. Out of complete panic, I flung myself off the side of the pool, plunging into the water right beside him. The water was cold, freezing even, but it felt good. I was enveloped in it quicker than I could even process. I didn’t even bother kicking my leg and a half, as it felt perfectly wonderful just floating.

 

 

Marco Bodt floated there too, probably in the same delightful feeling of cooling down in the hot summer air. I almost forgot about hiding my leg from his sight.

 

 

The worst part was that he had goggles on, and again in complete panic – this time to distract him, I pulled him towards me and pressed my lips against his.

 

 

Well, maybe that was the worst part…or the best? Either way, it was like I had done it on impulse. I, Eren Jaeger, the maker of bad decisions, had no other logical way to hide myself from Marco’s vision than blocking his eyes with my own. It was embarrassing really, I closed my eyes as if we were kissing, both with consent. My hands gripped tightly at his and I shook slightly in the water.

 

 

It was surreal. I couldn’t breathe but I didn’t want to let go. I didn’t want it to end.

 

 

Obviously, I expected something, a reaction of some sort. A kind of questioning as to why I had jumped in the pool with him only to kiss him under the water. Nothing. I got _nothing_. No movement, no resistance, no closing eyes. He just _floated there_ and let me kiss him.

 

 

After finally letting go of him, we both pushed ourselves back to the surface. It must have been quicker than it felt. Sometimes reality blurs like that.

 

 

I didn’t want him to say anything; I didn’t want to hear what he might say in response. So I took my chance to speak the exact _millisecond_ that our mouths broke through the water.

 

 

After a deep breath of air I blurted, “Marco I can explain I just-”

 

 

“Hey, are you two okay? Y’seen a ghost or something?” Jean interrupted in a completely unexpected manner, looking confused as fuck. I panicked even more. Luckily he hadn’t seen the kiss. It didn’t deter me from the fact that I had just fucking kissed Marco Bodt and I had no way in hell to explain everything.

 

 

“I…I…” My words came out in whimpers and I sounded like I was about to cry, “I want to go home!”

 

 

 _See Eren,_ Thomas’ words started again, _You ruin everything._

“I can’t do this anymore! I don’t want to do this because…because-”

 

 

_If you weren’t so damn useless, maybe I would love you. But no one loves you anymore. No one loves you because you- you’re just so…_

“Because it _hurts!_ ”

 

 

_So…worthless! You’re alone now._

 

 

“It hurts everyday that I live and I can’t take this anymore-”

 

 

“Eren!” Marco cried at me, though it sounded stern and angry. He was probably disgusted. I had really ruined everything again. Just like Thomas said…I was worthless. Worthless and alone, “I don’t know what the _fuck_ is up with you but I’m gonna go back inside for a bit to give you some time to think.”

 

 

And with that, Marco jumped out of the pool, back flexing and then shaking. He walked inside, not even bothering to dry himself.

 

 

I gripped hard on the side of the pool, but then let go. I wanted to float away in a current, let the waves drag me out and far, far away from everyone. I had to be alone or I’d ruin things even more. I wanted to sink down to the depths. But the goddamn pool wouldn’t take me away, it was just a fucking pool!

 

 

I decided that it was best to go back to how everything was. Even if it opened all my scars, I would go home and build a 50-metre wall around myself. I would shrink back down to my normal size so that I wasn’t able to destroy a thing. I’d become a monster again and keep everything away. I’d let the world eat at my skin.

 

 

The water shook gently around me, a wave of warmth creeping around my body. I felt heat build up against my back and two arms wrap around me. I turned around as if I was a magnet attaching to where I belonged.

 

 

The arms that held me felt like home…a _good_ home. A place where I could be happy, a place where I wouldn’t isolate myself.

 

 

A place I knew I really belonged.

 

 

These arms told me that I wasn’t worthless, and if I was then they were too. Even if we were worthless, together we could still be something. Together we had a reason to keep on living.

 

 

The arms pulled my face out of the water. I dared to open my eyes and was blinded with the sun. It hurt, everything hurt. I tried to forget about kissing Marco but I couldn’t. I looked the other way, at the person who held me.

 

 

“Eren,” Jean whispered, “ _Eren_ …” Even he couldn’t form words in his mouth.

 

 

“I’m sorry…”

 

 

He let out a small whimper against my ear, “Why?”

 

 

“Because I love Marco.”

 

 

“That’s,” He stuttered, “That’s _okay_.”

 

 

Okay? _Okay?!_

 

How in hell could he say that it’s _okay!?_ We had been on dates and kissed and I had told him about some of my darkest places only for him to find out I was in love with Marco all the while. I was two damn _ashamed_ to explain the whole concept of polyamory.

 

 

He’d tried so hard to tell me I was beautiful…gone to that effort and yet it was all for nothing. I fucked up.

 

 

“I know what you’re thinking, Eren, and If it makes you feel better, I-” He paused and took a small breath of air that seemed reluctant to reach his lungs, “I am in love with Marco too.”

 

 

“But I like you too! I like you and Marco and I messed everything up!” It was hard to think, hard to process anything in my head. The air felt cold again and I was grasping to Jean like he was the only warmth available, “You should tell Marco…you would be good together.”

 

 

“Don’t you dare!” He hissed back at me, “Don’t you dare say that, idiot, I like you too. And if anyone is going to tell Marco anything, it’s you and it’s everything starting with when you were diagnosed.”

 

 

“But-”

 

 

“No matter how hard you think it will be, you need to do it. You can’t keep going with this lie! It’s eating you alive and I think even Marco can tell! Don’t you understand how confused he must be? You lied for the man you’re in love with and now you’ll tell the truth for him too.”

 

 

I nodded. I nodded for sure, each movement of my head was a promise to Jean. He held me so tight as if I could slip from his arms and shatter like glass. It sure felt like that was the case. I felt so weak, but I wanted to be strong.

 

 

If telling Marco would make me stronger…if saying the truth would make Marco happy…if saying my story from start to finish would be the right thing to do…then I’d do it.

 

 

I’d do it for Marco, and I’d do it for Jean.

 

* * *

 

 

His footsteps could be heard pacing around the kitchen. Each one sounding like a gentle slam against the cold tile floors. He was stressed, confused…clueless even. Marco had a fear of the unknown, and he was drowning in a pool of it.

 

 

His cheeks were probably red with frustration, eyes wide in stress. The discolouration of his skin probably faded away the galaxies of freckles hidden in his cheeks.

 

 

Jean sat outside, basking in the sun and trying not to complain about the heat. He was probably thinking about Marco, or wishing me luck in telling the truth. He most likely had his headphones plugged in, secretly listening to 80’s pop ballads and thinking that neither Marco nor I would find out.

 

 

I, on the other hand, felt like I was a bomb about to explode. Like at any moment my weak body could implode. My soul would become a black hole and everything around me would be dragged into it. Deep down to the depths of darkness.

 

 

I could stop this fear. I could put this hatred to an end. I just had to _walk forward_.

 

 

If only my leg could grow back. If only I could grow big and strong in a puff of hot air, powerful to all the beings around me. I would save people like myself, help people and kill their demons. I would kill the monsters, and I would make sure that the people never became a monster.

 

 

I was a monster, I did it myself. I let my demons take over my body and turn me into a being of only darkness. However, I decided not to let them control me. I could be a monster, but use my strength for the good of humanity.

 

 

I could, if I just walked through the door, build my armor up so strong that I could knock down the walls surrounding me. Knock them down and see the world how a human is supposed to see it.

 

 

It felt like I needed a key; a key that would open a door leading to the unpredictable truth, the secrets to the past, future and present. A key that would tell me how I could have handled everything without lying. A key to earning Marco Bodt’s forgiveness.

 

 

And as his pacing footsteps came to a halt from behind the door, I took it as my chance. I forgot about my feelings, and slammed the handle-less door open with all the strength I could muster.

 

 

Marco jumped in his spot, maybe not out of surprise, but more out of fear. I was scary, a monster, it didn’t surprise me. It just made me feel guilty again.

 

 

If we were a movie, I’d have run in to his arms and he would have kissed me back. If we were a movie, he would have smiled and told me he knew all along and didn’t want me to feel bad. But this wasn’t a movie, no film or television show; it was _real_.

 

 

Bitterly, sickeningly, _bone_ -chillingly real.

 

 

“Eren?”

 

 

“We need to talk.” I stated, my voice shaking and my brain doing it’s best to ignore it.

 

 

With an off-putting and sarcastic laugh that was very unlike Marco, he replied, “ _You don’t say_.”

 

 

I walked over to the breakfast bar, limping purposefully and hoping he noticed. At least that was a way to reveal that maybe something was up in the leg department of Eren Jaeger’s body.

 

 

Sitting myself effortlessly on a stool, I ordered him to, “Turn around…please.”

 

 

He sighed, but it sounded more like a whine.

 

 

Carefully, I reached down to the ankle of my prosthetic leg, where the hem of my jeans ended, and pulled it up all the way to the upper knee, just so the part when the leg attached could be easily seen.

 

 

I had to take a few deep breaths. It was already happening so fast. I made sure not to let my mental issues take over me at that moment, and made a small noise before speaking.

 

 

“You…can turn now…if you want.”

 

 

Marco did.

 

 

He turned around with an annoyed look on his face. His face then pulled into a look of complete confusion. It took him a moment, but his eyes travelled slowly down my body, neck first, chest, hips, thigh and then…

 

 

He gasped, but not in horror. If Marco Bodt had 800 foreigners stood around him, all speaking their own language, yelling at him or asking him questions, his face, even then, would not have looked as confused as it did when he saw my prosthetic leg.

 

 

He looked like puzzle pieces were being thrown at him from no where and he had to join them in 30 seconds and yet nothing fit together.

 

 

I whimpered at him, knowing I had no way of hiding anymore, and the road ahead would be the fucking bumpiest road ever.

 

 

“Come and sit with me Marco.”

 

 

Hesitantly, he stepped forward as if I was a disease. Well, maybe that’s an extreme way to put it, but it felt as though he was avoiding any contact with me. I felt disgusting.

 

 

“Are you, no, um, how did…when did… _Eren_ …” Marco couldn’t even get his words out. They were stuck on the tip of his tongue with glue.

 

 

“Marco, I’m going to explain this…but it’s really hard because I know that you’ll hate me when I tell you,”

 

 

There were tears forming in his eyes. I could see by the glass-like sheen of them. His brown irises glistened when the sun reflected on them through the window. I didn’t want him to cry, but I didn’t know how to stop him.

 

 

“I wouldn’t ever hate you, Eren! I will tell you time after fucking time, I just can’t hate you, not now, not ever. Please tell me what the hell is going on…I can’t…until…please Eren-”

 

“Turkey never happened.”

 

“What…”

 

“I lied. I never went to Turkey. I didn’t even leave Trost.”

 

“B-but how…why-”

 

“In March, two years ago, I was diagnosed with Cancer.”

 

* * *

 

 

_“Jesus, Eren,” Marco huffed, “How did you get so good at this?”_

_I smiled at him. My fingers ached a little from plucking at the guitar, though it was worth it – after all, my aim was to impress Marco. And, not meaning to brag but he looked super impressed._

_“Well I’m taking more lessons at school too. They’re pretty cool actually, I mean I hear they don’t even do guitar at your school!” He nodded along at everything I said._

_“I didn’t realize you could sing that well either!” He stated in surprise._

_I shook my shoulders nonchalantly, “Well I like to write songs and that stuff so…”_

 

 

_He gasped, his face lighting up. It pained me every second I looked at him, my heart would start thumping about in my chest and my sight would go hazy. To think that the first person I’d fall for would be Marco! I hoped it was my dumb 15-year-old hormones and that I’d eventually grow out of it._

_“That’s so cool!” He exclaimed, “You have to sing for me one day.”_

_Pouting, I replied, “My songs are kind of shit,”_

_“No. Nope. You have to, there’s no way of getting around it.”_

_“Ugh.” I huffed._

_“Write me a song, Eren, and then when we play guitar together sometime, sing it for me and teach me to play it!”_

_“…Fine.”_

_“Promise?”_

_I held out my baby finger to him, blushing shamefully and looked away to try and hide it, “Pinky promise?”_

_He smiled again, lighting up like the Aurora Borealis, definitely more of a light show than the crappy Blackpool illuminations. He lifted his hand towards me and wrapped his finger around my mine._

_Shaking it and squeezing tightly, he replied “Pinky Promise.”_

_Afterwards, I walked home red-faced and grinning. I shuffled through my diary and all songs I’d already written. They all felt emotionless and fake._

_Thinking about Marco, I decided I would just tell the truth. I didn’t want to hold it all in any longer._

_That night, I spilled all of my emotions onto the cheap off-white of my printer paper in the form of lyrics, forming themselves into a song I named: For Him._

 

* * *

 

 

“-and Jean carried me to the pool. We thought that you might not find it out if I just hid my legs under the water.”

 

 

“J-Jean…he knows about this?”

 

 

I nodded, “Only very briefly. You are the one who knows the full story. I don’t know how Jean would react if I told him about the, um, the…violence.”

 

 

“Oh, I see.”

 

 

“So I sit on the side of the pool, and I start freaking out again, and when I freak out, my chest feels tight…like the world is about to collapse on me. I didn’t expect you’d just come running in. I knew I had to jump in too…to hide my leg, but then we were underwater, and I…I just-” I paused to take a deep breath, “I didn’t know what else to do.”

 

 

Marco’s fist tightened on the table.

 

 

I’d pretty much summed up the entire last two and a bit years of my life for him, leaving out only the most private areas. He hadn’t spoken the entire time. I had been filled with impatience every time I spoke but had no words spoken in return.

 

 

He just stared, the kind of stare with wistful and wide eyes, melancholy and completely stuck on what to say. I expected him to shout at me, tell me how completely horrid I was, but he didn’t. He sat and let me talk.

 

 

It was only when I briefly mentioned Jean that he decided to speak. I had choked on my words a bit, at the thought that, perhaps he wasn’t as bothered about anything other than Jean.

 

 

I decided not to let any idea’s take me over while I was talking to him, it’d only end badly. Sometimes hiding in your opinions and ideas is the right choice – especially when the majority end up being bad ones.

 

 

I could have sworn, truthfully, that there was at least 10 minutes spent looking at each other.

 

 

We were trying to figure each other out without speaking.

 

 

Almost like those first few lines of Gone Girl; _When I think of my wife, I always think of the back of her head. I picture cracking her lovely skull, unspooling her brain, trying to get answers. The primal questions of a marriage: What are you thinking? How are you feeling? What have we done to each other? What will we do?_

All those questions needed to be answered, and I just wasn’t brave enough to ask any.

 

 

“Eren,” Marco whispered out of the blue. There was a shake, a gentle whimper in his voice that crushed my every bone. “I’m so sorry…”

 

 

“It’s- wait, what?” I paused on my words, struck with confusion, “ _You’re_ sorry?!”

 

 

A large broken breath of air escaped his lips as if he was stressed that his words couldn’t be phrased. He wouldn’t even look me in the eyes anymore, “Of course I’m sorry Eren. I’m sorry that you had to fight cancer by yourself and I’m so goddamn sorry that I wasn’t there-”

 

 

“I had Thomas-”

 

 

“Screw him, Eren, from everything you just told me I’m gonna say he sounds like the biggest ultra-twat I’ve ever heard of. I can’t comprehend how you thought I could hate you after telling me the truth.”

 

 

I shivered in the warmth, “I _lied_.”

 

 

“Sometimes we lie for the people we _love_.”

 

 

“What?”

 

 

“You love me right?”

 

 

“Of course,” I smiled forcefully, “You’re my best friend.”

 

 

“Can I,” He turned his eyes towards the floor, gazing at it in thought, “Can I kiss you?”

 

 

“Don’t kiss me out of sympathy.” Just as I had had to tell Jean, I didn’t want to be kissed because I was felt sorry for. I wanted to be kissed because the person loved me. I let Jean kiss me because he had feelings for me.

 

 

“I’m not going to do that I-” Marco hesitated, “You’ve just hated yourself for so long and I want to be able to make you know you are beautiful.”

 

 

I snorted, “God, you sound like Jean.”

 

 

“Have you kissed him?” He asked, his lips set in a straight line and his eyes open wide.

 

 

“I have.”

 

 

He didn’t react at all, again. Though, one of his hands moved slowly until it cupped my lower-cheek and jaw, fingers touching my skin so lightly it sent a shiver through my body.

 

 

His lip quivered and a small breath escaped, low and shaky. His head was moving forward and his eyes were closing a millimeter per second.

 

 

It was slow, it was nerve-wracking, but when our lips met, I was filled with that wonderful sensation of all my worries disappearing.

 

 

When you kiss the person you love, you care about nothing else than the moment surrounding you.

 

 

I hesitated to move my body, but as we parted lips for air and pressed them together again, I thought ‘screw it’. My hands found themselves behind his neck, pulling him closer like I needed more.

 

 

The thrill of kissing Marco equal with the thrill of kissing Jean. Never had kissing Thomas felt good, never had it felt right. But Marco and Jean’s lips felt like they were made to kiss mine.

 

 

Marco’s hand trailed down my spine, meandering until it reached my lower back. A rush of adrenaline and warmth shot through every vein in my body. Marco’s hair dripped water down my arms but all was ignored. I felt so scarily lost in the moment, almost to the point where I might lose myself in him.

 

 

Our eyes would open and meet occasionally, his cheeks rose tinted and eyes glistening. He was breathtaking, he was real.

 

 

I shuffled forward into his lap, hoping the bar stool could hold us both. His lips began moving away from my lips, kissing along my jaw and down my neck. His teeth sunk lightly into my skin.

 

 

Completely lost in him, I had to part away. I couldn’t let it go on any further.

 

 

He lifted his head back up, his mouth panting against my ear. And in a low, raspy whisper he asked, “Do you wanna go in the pool?”

 

* * *

 

 

Jean Kirschtein pretty much shit his pants when Marco threw me into the water over his head. The squeal he released was the kind of thing I’d remember to remind him of every time I felt like embarrassing him. After all, Jean never admitted defeat. And yet, despite me jumping in first, he _still_ shit himself when Marco followed.

 

 

Most of the pool water was splashed out of the pool when we jumped in. Honestly, none of us cared. I struggled, but I managed to swim over to Jean and give him a big glomp. He giggled when I hugged him.

 

 

“Thank you, Jean,” I laughed, “Thank you for making me talk to Marco.”

 

 

He ruffled up my wet mess of a hair-do and smiled down at me, “I’m just glad you’re both happy.”

 

 

Marco snorted from beside me, “Jean you’re starting to sound like my Mother.”

 

 

Jean proceeded to lean forward and swat Marco in the butt, earning a bunch of spongy giggles from the freckled lump of goob.

 

 

After about 1 million water-pistol fights and 10 million dunk-jean-underwater sessions, we called it a day. The evening pinks were showing through the purple-tinted clouds and the moon showed faintly in the orange abyss of the sky. Our fingers had pruned to the max, and we were exhausted.

 

 

Surprisingly, Jean gave me a piggyback inside again – surprising considering what had happened between Marco and I. I guess Jean was the official ‘Eren carrier’.

 

 

After drying ourselves off with Marco’s mint green bath towels, we dumped our lifeless bodies on the sofa and decided it was time for alcohol. Marco had three cans of beer in his fridge, the nicer stuff that Jean and I weren’t so used to.

 

 

Marco never was so keen on beer, though once he got going the taste became a little nicer for him. The initial grossed-out face he pulled always made me laugh, the kind of stomach laugh that hurts a bit because the thing you’re laughing at is really funny. Jean laughed too.

 

 

We decided to put Alien on, but Jean and I ended up getting annoyed with Marco’s swooning over Ellen Ripley. After all, he was ‘25% straight’…or something like that. Jean often stated that he found the alien more attractive, unsurprising coming from someone like Jean. By the time the film reached halfway point, we all realized that our drinks had disappeared long ago.

 

 

Marco, being the beholder of the keys, volunteered to retrieve the other drinks from the big fridge in the garage.

 

 

It felt like only a millisecond between Marco Bodt walking through the front door and Jean turning around with a serious face to confront me about something.

 

 

“Are you and Marco together now?” He said, poker faced and unreadable, like a book in a foreign language.

 

 

I choked on my mouthful of nothingness, “W-what?!”

 

 

“Eren, I heard everything. The garden bench was literally underneath the open kitchen window.”

 

 

“I-”

 

 

“No, Eren, it’s okay. It’s _okay_. I have feelings for you and Marco, and I wouldn’t be happy if either of you got in a relationship. But I’m more than happy to let you be in a relationship if it’s between you and him. Then I can be sure you’ll make each other happy.”

 

 

“Jean, let-”

 

 

“Eren, listen to me. I want you to promise me that you’ll never hurt him, okay-”

 

 

“No.” I stated, “No I won’t fucking listen. You listen to me, you idiot, I kissed Marco Bodt, but I’m about as clueless as to what will happen next as a baby about 2 seconds after birth. Jean don’t go…don’t go assuming things. I have literally told you how I feel about you, didn’t I make it obvious enough?” I let myself breathe for a moment. Filling my lungs up was difficult. It was like the air was toxic and my body resented every oxygen particle that tried to enter my body.

 

 

“Didn’t I let you know clearly? Well let me tell you now: I don’t want to be with either of you unless I’m with both of you. If that doesn’t make sense to you, then I don’t know how else to put it. I am not in a relationship with Marco, not ever unless I can be with you too. And don’t you say another word until Marco gets back.”

 

 

It felt too sudden. It felt like I had said too much. Within, what, a minute, I was bottled up with too many unexplainable emotions.

 

 

Jean whimpered for a second.

 

 

“Marco is-”

 

 

“I’m here.” Marco stated

 

 

They both looked at me with desperate eyes. Desperate for what? I didn’t know.

 

 

“Eren, even if I knew we both had feelings for each other,” Marco began, “I don’t think I would want us to be together unless I could be with Jean too.”

 

 

Jean jumped, mildly at that, and gripped his fist tightly. His teeth audibly grit against each other. He looked angry, though he was most likely incapable of thinking straight.

 

 

Marco placed the 12 pack of beer on the other sofa and walked over to us, seating himself on the small coffee table in front of Jean.

 

 

Marco looked me in the eye, and I nodded to grant him permission because I knew exactly what he wanted.

 

 

“Jean,” He was hesitant, but he gripped Jean’s hand. I felt a slight bit of jealously, but reminded myself that it was only natural, and I already had everything I wanted, “Jean,” He repeated.

 

 

“Marco?”

 

 

“I love you.” He smiled and let go of Jean’s hand, “I love you. And I love Eren too.”

 

* * *

 

 

Jean Kirschtein had to gasp for air. Marco Bodt remained composed as he tapped a tune against my bare leg. I, Eren Jaeger, may as well have been dead.

 

 

A whole 12 pack of beer, two films and 10,000,000 kisses later, we were pretty much exhausted.

 

 

The time was something around 11, the sky pitch black and full of endless stars. Infinite shining specks in the sky like the freckles on Marco’s cheeks and the golden sparkles in Jean’s eyes.

 

 

Nothing was figured out. No answers were given. No questions were asked.

 

 

Maybe it was for the best.

 

 

As long as we knew how we felt and as long as we knew what we wanted and as long as we were all sure that our needs fit together like a puzzle piece, it was okay to carry on blind. We didn’t need words to tell each other anything.

 

 

Sometimes the most beautiful stories can only be told through kisses and open eyes. Marco showed us everything through the gentle touches of his hand. Jean smiled and shivered under me. I kept my eyes wide and truthful.

 

 

Nothing had to be explained if it felt this good.

 

 

Upon realizing that the time was 11:30, I had to remind Marco that he ought to open his birthday presents before it turned midnight and the new day begun.

 

 

“Ah,” He gasped joyfully, “I completely forgot…”

 

 

Jean snorted, “Well, uh, you can open mine first…I guess.”

 

 

He stood up and walked over to the shelving unit by the door, picking up the box before turning back towards us. Marco clapped his hands in excitement, but Jean laughed in response.

 

 

“Honestly, It’s nothing much at all-”

 

 

“Shut up, you know I’ll love it.” I giggled at Marco.

 

 

5 minutes or so later, when Marco had finally untied the ribbon around the box, he opened it.

 

 

Surprisingly, he was completely silent.

 

 

He reached in and lifted the scrapbook labeled _For Marco_ , and turned to the first page.

 

 

The first of Jean’s drawings was a picture of Marco, sat on a hill, gazing downwards at the lake below him and the one that followed was similar, but in colour…and he was looking up at the sky.

 

 

More followed afterwards, all of Marco. They were beautiful, utterly so, and captured the brilliant colours and shades and shaped of Marco’s face. From the first picture onwards, Marco aged in the pictures, because the drawings were in chronological order from Marco in Highschool to Marco in the present.

 

 

The second to last one looked very recent. It was him stood in the kitchen, topless might I add, tribal tattoo wrapping his arm and scars crawling up the right side of his body. He was smiling brightly, thinking of something or someone. The sparkle in his eyes looked real. Jean had brought the drawings to life.

 

 

Marco looked almost at tears. He looked hesitant to turn over to the last page, but he did it anyway. Then the tears really started.

 

 

In the final drawing, Marco stood with his parents. About a year before they died. His hands were held by both his Mother and Father. They were looking down at him as if he was the one thing they were most proud of, the one person they cared for the most. Marco, despite seeming aware and delighted by his the two people beside him, was looking away from his parents.

 

 

He was facing the eyes of whoever was watching them. He was looking at Jean. The smile on his face was as bright as Betelgeuse.

 

 

The scrapbook was closed, forcefully, and placed so gently back into the box. The tears streaming down Marco’s face came down to a slow. I brought a finger to the inner corner of my eye and realized that, I too, was crying.

 

 

“ _Jean_ ,” Marco whimpered, “Jean…these are…they are…so…”

 

 

He wiped at the salty tears on his cheeks, ridding of them completely, and gave himself a moment to breathe.

 

 

“Thank you,” He said, “They are beautiful.”

 

 

“I didn’t realize you could draw so well.” I added.

 

 

Jean blushed a little, clearly trying to hide back a smile, “Whatever.”

 

 

Marco stood up with the box and walked over to the fireplace, placing the box down gently on the mantlepiece as if it was a decoration he wanted to be able to see whenever he wanted.

 

 

Marco came and sat back down with us on the sofa, both he and Jean facing towards me patiently.

 

 

“Um,” I started, “Do you still have a guitar, Marco?”

 

 

He tilted his head in confusion, “…Yeah. How come?”

 

 

“For your birthday,” I explained, “I wrote you a song.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was dramatic, but it ended happily, right?
> 
> (Yes, I have made 987423 references.)
> 
> I have studying to do like 24/7 so I apologize that this is so late but it was delayed for that already mentioned genuine reason.
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this and thanks to the few comments and hits I have, I really love them!
> 
> My [tumblr](http://kaffihuss.tumblr.com//)


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